


Midnight

by FrangipaniFlower



Category: Homeland
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Romance, alternative ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7312036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Generated by prompt #31 from this list http://carrie-quinn.livejournal.com/125637.htmls as well as the question in how many ways that night could have had a different outcome.</p><p>Set in 4.12 after the wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> An interesting discussion about Quinn at that point in S4 is to be found here: http://carrie-quinn.livejournal.com/126388.html

 

The dishes were washed and dried, Frannie was securly snuggled into her bed, she'd watch her nightlight now and doze away.

Carrie was amazed by the love she felt for her daughter. That was new and had washed her away. Still did.

Her father's death, coming home, being with Frannie and her family and mourning her father had opened a well of feelings she hadn't known before she had them or was even capable of them.

Probably that lid had been lifted the first tiny bit in that parking garage in Islamabad. The next concussion, and that had been a huge one, had been the fear of actually loosing Quinn, how they'd beat him to death or worse in case he'd attempted to kill Haqqani.

That, and seeing Dar Adal in that car.

She'd done her best to bury all those obfuscating emotions and impressions deep down in her chest, just going home and being where she belonged, where she was needed.

Only half successful. Quinn had been on the back of her mind night and day. She'd seen him in her dreams. Battered, tortured, dead. Or with that divine german blonde, not so dead, very alive in fact. Both dreams had been horrible.

And diving into the domestic life of her sister's busy household, feeling the painful absence of her father each and every second, had teared the lid completely away, she was raw and open and vulnerable.

But yet amidst all those intimidating emotions she felt something growing, an ability to love and feel she hadn't had before. To be there. Present. Not to run away. To allow for being washed away by pain or fond memories or the love to her child. She could even look at her and remember Brody without being eaten up alive by guilt and grief. He was her daughter's father. She had believed to love him and had received a gift in return. A gift she was only now able to accept and cherish. He would always be a part of her through Frannie. And she'd let him rest in peace.

And today, amidst the deepest pain, when she just was about to realize the ultimateness of her father's irrevocable absence, she had received another gift.

Quinn.

_Back. Alive. Coming home from another war._

That had been her thoughts when she'd lost herself in that embrace. And in a way had retrieved herself and a kind inner fragile peace in it too.

How was that possible? The conflicts which had definied their stint in Islamabad felt like episodes from another life. Melting into his embrace had felt like the most sane and natural thing to do since ten days.

She'd thought she'd lost him by saving his life. But here he was again, closer as they'd ever been before.

\---------------------------------

From the moment he'd learnt about Frank Mathison's death from Astrid, who apparently had learnt via some hot gossip in the small diplomatic community in Islamabad, he had only been able to focus on one train of thought: _I need to be there in time. I have to be with her when she buries her father. I never had a chance to bury mine but I have to be there in time. I cursed her after the worst day of her life, after she'd lost so many people under her watch, when she was just trying to save me, and next thing she hears is her father's dead._

It had been an odd turn of events. After months of desperatly hoping to get whatever kind of recognition from her, to be actually seen, she suddenly begged him for not giving his life. Just when he had been ready to give it all up. For a reason. The right reason.

It had been the greatest evidence of trust he'd ever received in his life: she'd put herself on top of a bomb because she trusted him not to kill her, even after she'd seen his determination earlier in Astrid's garage. He still felt slightly bad for shooting that guy into his leg. _Well, now I lost it twice in 12 years. Actually twice within a single year. If I keep that pace, it'll really be time for a change soon._

She had vanished in the crowd right after Haqqani's car had passed the point of no return, the last chance to get hold of the motherfucker vanished into thin air.

He'd been numb, dead on the inside, functioning on autopilot, surrender to a small hideout with backup stash near the bazar. Took him three days to get there, moving only at night. He'd stayed there for two days, noticing the high presence of ISI and army in the area. He'd managed to contact Astrid early on day three and it had taken her two more days to provide him a safe contact from where she'd been able to extract him to another safe house.They'd met there the next day and he still remembered her expression when she'd told him about Carrie.

He gave her high credit for giving him news which she'd surely expected to cause emotional turmoil for him, making him itch to go back stateside as soon as possible. She could have kept those for herself and he'd probably never made it in time. But that was Astrid, even with his feelings for Carrie clearly being a development she did not appreciate at all, she was the most honest, reliable and supportive person he'd ever met. Whip smart and damn sexy. The ice queen with a passionate core of molten lava only few people knew. He among those few. Telling him to go home to her. Now. Providing passport, transport and a flight ticket matching the passport's name. And he'd been an ass for never being able to give her what she once had wanted for a long time, back then during all those years before. But he honestly had thought not to be that kind of guy. Not to be capable for those feelings, decisions, declarations.

And then Carrie had happened. A force of nature. And suddenly he had felt it all.

And while being in that hideout he'd contemplated for hours, days and nights why he hadn't sparked off that bomb. One life against the lives of so many yet to be killed by Haqqani and his men.

He was a soldier. Those decisions came easily to him. Engraved into his bones and brain and trigger finger. Years of training. Ethics and morality of civilians had to be no parameters in his decision making. Each and every cell of his body and brain had screamed to do what he was trained for, what he was. Taking out that one life to make revenge in that endless war and to prevent further dark and evil deeds.

Only he hadn't been able to move his finger. She'd done that to him. She'd taken that away from him. And while he had seen her on top of that bomb when she'd flashed her hair to signal him where she'd been he had realized with cristal clarity how Carrie Mathison had understood the only weakness he had and was using it against him: his desperate need to protect her.

After the numbness came the rage. A difficult phase in a five squaremeter hideout.

And after the rage came the...the what? The fear, the despair, the hope, the confession of the fact he loved her, the knowledge that she was the one and only one, that she had managed to get under his skin, into the marrow of his bones, defined his breathing, being, sleeping and all of him.

And the realization how he had reached a crossroads. There had been and still was no way back to the before. It was either her or...nothing. He couldn't carry on. He couldn't do it anymore.

But he'd been determined to never tell her. Only then Astrid had come with the news. And five days of pondering, brooding and decision making had been obliberated. He had to go back and be with her through it.

That had been when he'd realized how far he was down the road to...to what?

There had been no answer. Not until he'd been outside of that church today. Four hours after flying in, buying clothes and a car, shit, shaved, showered, while making Max researching where the service would be hold.

When he'd seen her he'd known that the answer had been there all the time. She was the answer.

_Out. Now. Together._

So here he was now, at the bottoms of the stairs in her sister's house. Dishes done, lasagna in the fridge, baby probably asleep, waiting for her to say good night. He'd stretched his welcome in this house for the longest possible time, having no idea how to convey what he wanted and needed to be said.

Only thing he knew: He loved her.

\--------------------------------

She walked him to his car and he felt how an odd sense of peace built around them. Her shoulders were relaxing after being tense all day, he'd longed all day to touch her and to offer her relief through rubbing and stroking the tension out. She probably had a motherfucker of a headache. She had not cried all day although he had sensed every now and then how she needed to.

While they'd sat outside with Saul and Lockhard he'd seen her eyes being shiny every now and then. And those beautiful small halfsmiles she'd given him.

A softer Carrie. A much softer Carrie.

He'd been tempted more than once today to tell her to take a break and slow down. He'd actually contemplated to walk her upstairs and make sure she'd lay down for a while.

But now as they were walking outside he found himself not wanting her to leave, even if that sadly was a prerequisite for her getting some rest in the tranquility of her bedroom. How he wished to be the one to go with her. To watch her undress and change and crawl under the sheets to relax in his embrace.

_Or maybe there was another way._

"I'm so done in, but still far too alert to allow for some rest at the same  
time", as she'd read his thoughts.

"Want me to drive you a bit around? Just to calm down?"

She looked at him, again with that new soft glance and that tiny curl at the corners of her mouth.

"I'd like that. I'll just let my sister know."

She was back after a mere minute, with a cardigan around her shoulders. When he opened her door he wished he could embrace her again like in front of that church. Every piece of him had shifted into the right place that moment.

But he just held the door and she climbed in.

He took her to the banks of Pontomac, opposite of Theodore Roosevelt Island, holding her glance as they passed the US Marine Corps War Memorial just before entering the bridge across the river and daring to reach out for her hand for a squeeze. Afterwards he didn't let go.

With a few detours it had been an hour drive which they'd done in silence, the only sound was the local jazz station he'd tuned in at a low volume. But he had noticed how she finally had sunk into her seat, how her shoulders had relaxed and how her arms, which she had wrapped around herself in the beginning, finally had come down.

He pulled the car into an empty parking lot facing the river and she didn't object or comment.

And she didn't let go of his hand.

Hers was soft and small and warm.

_He's here. He came. And he didn't leave. He stayed._

And finally she could the tears allow to come. He'd help her to not loose herself, she was sure of that. First he thought he'd just hold her hand and allow her to cry it out but that was unbearable. So he let go off her hand, climbed out and rounded the car to get back in on the passenger side and pull her to sit in his lap.

The simple beauty how she accepted him to hold her and comfort her was stunning. Never in his life he'd felt more in the right place at the right moment as here and now.

Thay didn't talk, she just leant in, head on his shoulder, her small frame supported by his chest, his arms went around her and that's how they sat through the following hour, her sobbing which had started frantic and desperate slowly changing into a silent crying and eventually tappering off. But she didn't move. Neither did he.

"Listen."

"Uhm?"

"That's Monk. Abide with me. We played it in church today. It's the first track of his 1957 album Monk's music. One of my dad's favourites."

There was nothing to say to that, at least nothing he felt comfortable with so he settled for silence.

It was a long while after til she spoke again.

"Quinn. I'm sorry for what I did in Islamabad. But I meant it. I could not loose you. But I thought I had. While I did what I did. I thought you wouldn't ever forgive that."

"Carrie. I still think I was right. I should've taken him out. At every cost."

She shivered as he spoke.

"But that doesn't mean I'm not glad you did what you did. It's not that I wanted to die. It's just that I didn't see any other option."

"As giving your own life."

"One can't do what I do without being willing to do that. I'm a soldier, Carrie. I'm a soldier, too."

They never had spoken about him but maybe it was time.

"I know. And I think when he went into the Iran, he was willing to make that sacrifice. To be a marine again. I told him I'm pregnant just before..."

"I always wondered if you had a chance to."

"I had. He said it made sense to him. I hope it gave him something to hold on to when...I hope he saw me. I was the only blonde in the crowd."

_And I made you do that again._

"Did you ever consider to get out? Afterwards? Or ever?"

"Every day since then. And the answer has always been a no. Although I think I probably should. If not for myself then for Frannie. But this is who I am. I am my job. I take things personal. And what's left if I take that away from me?"

"A lot. You'd still be...you. And you'd still be a mother. A daughter. A sister. An aunt. A friend. People still would love you. That's a lot."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

He didn't know what she was heading at. What about what? What she'd be to him in case she'd quit? Him in her life, how he'd see her when she'd quit? Or what about his own choices? How could she know?

"Ever thought 'bout quitting?"

She raised her head at that and looked him straight in the eyes, her eyes being puffy and red.

"Yeah. But I'd be none of that afterwards. No one's whatsoever. I guess that's what makes it kind of hard. But I can't do it any more."

"That's not true."

She settled back against his shoulder.

"You'd still be you", she echoed his earlier words, "you'd still be Quinn."

_You'd still be...for me...You could still be with me, maybe?_

"I don't know what I'll be then. But I know I have to get out."

"Why now?"

He sighed heavily. "I was about to leave before Pakistan. After Sandy. And before couple of times too. Let's just say it didn't get better. I'm an addict, Carrie, and addicts have to stay away from their drugs. When you just go from mission to mission, stop feeling what you do there, or in my case let bloody hot rage taking over, then you don't it for the right reasons any more. And then you have to stop."

"And then?"

_I can't loose you, Quinn._

"I don't know. I have a cabin in the woods in West Virginia. Although I haven't been there for years. But I thought I'd go there and do maintenance, replace old logs, maybe build a deck. Keep myself busy and take it from there."

"Sounds good."

_Why don't I just tell her and ask her?_

_Will I ever see you again, Quinn?_

But there was something else she had to tell him.

"Would it be okay to go for a walk?"

She was half out of the car and he already missed her warmth curled into his lap, wondering if she'd ever sit there again.

_Certainly not if you don't tell her what you want._

"Carrie. Don't you think it's time to slow down and have a break? You need to sleep."

But of course he followed her.

She took the direction towards the large tidal bassin and he followed her with long steps. She didn't talk until they reached the cherry trees, now in late spring in full bloom, white clouds even in the middle of the night.

"My dad took us here when we were kids, Maggie and me. There's a photo of him and me, Maggie took it, a bit blurry though, under one of those trees and the wind made the falling blossoms dance like snowflakes around us. I'm about five and he's carrying me piggyback. I kind of thought he'll live forever."

Her raw and silent grief hurt him deeply and there was not really much he could do about it. Just what he did before. Offering a shoulder to lean on to, a hug to crawl into. So he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, but keeping them both walking, but slower now.

"That cabin in the woods. Was it your dad's?"

He couldn't deny her an answer, not tonight.

"Yeah."

"You went there as a kid?"

"Sometimes. Until I was seven."

"We have one too. But in Maryland. We spent great times there. Are your parents still alive?" Classic Carrie, two major shifts in less than 15 seconds.

"No. They died long time ago."

She'd stopped their walk near a bench and looked up to him as he sighed and sat down, pulling her on his lap again.

If she'd asked he'd even been willing to tell her the full story but he was grateful when she didn't, obviously preoccupied with something else.

"Quinn, there's something else I need to tell you. But I need you to make a promise first. I meant it when I said I can't loose you. Whatever emotions that'll stir, you have to promise me to stay calm and to do nothing without my consent."

She felt him stiffen and suddenly she was very aware of herself sitting in his lap. It had come natural and had felt and still felt every second so fucking good but now it would certainly prevent him from jumping up and running away.

"Carrie."

"Promise."

He couldn't see all of her expression in the dark but heard the urgency. So he squeezed her hand, bracing for what might come.

"I told you how I was about to shoot Haqqani."

"Shit, Carrie, please", he breathed.

Hating and fearing what she had to do now she went on. "As I said, Khan stopped me. But he did not only stopped me. He made me aware of a passenger in Haqqani's car as well."

"Carrie, please, spit it out."

"Quinn. I'm sorry. It was Dar."

The reality of her words sunk in like a stone. Deep and deeper. Never to be made unheard again.

And it was a good thing how she was so close. A living, breathing, warm, head against his shoulder proof of what he should strive for. What maybe, just maybe could be a future. And it was a good thing how he was a 20'minutes walk away from his car. He had to give her credit for that. She'd played him, again. But he saw how it was for his own good.

But still his heartbeat was racing, his mind spinning and he felt that anger rising again, hot and red and furious. A lifetime of manipulation, impetus and affiliation, ending here on a bench facing river Potomac and the cherry trees of Carrie's childhood memories. Just like that.

His voice was pressed when he finally answered. "Did he see you? Is there any chance he knows you saw him?"

"He did not see me. I was in the crowd and Khan held me back and shielded me."

"Carrie, think. If there's any chance he knows you're not safe."

"He did not see me. Quinn, if he'd seen me he'd certainly tried to rattle my cage last week."

"You saw him? Why?"

He heard the anger and fear in his own voice but couldn't help it. If Dar knew she'd seen him...

"Quinn, he did not see me. Would you've identified me, if I'd been wearing a headscarf? He came to look for you, couple of days ago."

It's really time to letting it all go, he thought, when Dar Adal starts to look for me in Carrie's home. If I really want to try that, and if she says yes, I need to get out alone for her and the child's sake. Dar Adal. In her sister's living room. God.

And that's when it happened. The anger which had risen hot and dangerous, about to take over again, was subdued, overlayered again by the realization how he had reached a crossroads. That there had been and still was no way back to the before. It was either her or...nothing. He couldn't carry on. He couldn't do it anymore. And now he had even a better reason than before.

Betrayal. Treason. Loss.

The person he'd trusted most and the longest time had betrayed him, their death colleagues and assets and their country.

So maybe it was time to let all of that go. Maybe it was time to really try. Maybe he could.

And it was Carrie who stopped his musings. Carrie's small white hands coming around his neck in the dark. Carrie whispering.

"Is that really all that is for us? More darkness. More despair. Another mission. Betrayal of our own people. More deaths. Quinn. Is that's how it's always gonna be? I don't know what I'm gonna be without it. But I can't do it on my own. Please tell me this is no self-delusion. Cause I mean it."

And with that she bent forward, just enough to kiss him. Tentative at first, as if in doubt. But then, as his hands went up her back, supporting her, she leant in a bit more, pressing her lips slightly open on his, murmuring "Am I so wrong?".

She wasn't.

So this time he kissed her, tipping her head against his arm supporting her. It started as a tender kiss, his lips exploring her mouth while his hand went to her neck, caressing her with a featherlike touch. When the kiss deepened his tongue hesitantly probed her lips and she parted them for him, shivering under his touch, feeling a shiver down her spine when their tongues met.

But then she felt him hesitating and as if making a decision he sighed and broke the kiss, looking away. She was hurt, to suprising extend, and felt an instant pang of loss. She tried to extricate herself out of his embrace to get up, but he held her in place without effort.

"Quinn, I...why..."

Finally he looked at her.

"Carrie...why now...is it...it's not just, dunno, to hinder me from going after Dar right away? Cause...then I don't want it. And you don't need to. I'm done with the CIA anyway. No need to set up a play."

And how could she blame him? How often had she manipulated him? Or at least tried to? She got it. Only that this time it was different.

"And if it is for real?"

He looked at her and it all conveyed with that glance. All the love, want, longing and need.

When she put her hand on his cheek and gently pulled him back in for another kiss, she hoped her kiss would convey the same.

It was a fragile and volatile connection they built, a delicate shift into what hopefully was a new beginning.

She'd always thought they'd eventually clash in an epic confrontation either leading into a fight where unspeakable truthes would be expressed, leading to one of them - or both - storming off in a fuming rage to never come back. Either that, or fucking each other senseless. Once or twice in Islamabad she had expected this, when she was honest to herself.

But all that had been before that intense days of murder, violence, betrayal, before loosing her father and before thinking she had lost him. Quinn.

Before she hadn't been prepared for tender, gentle kisses, slowly deepening, slowly building passion and an intense yearning. Now it was a welcome surprise.

He kissed her like he was drowning. Maybe he was. Finally she didn't fight the maelstrom of emotions anymore, finally she just gave in and let him take over and take her with him, her only reality his mouth on hers, his arms around her, the bulk of his chest holding her. They had found each other, amidst the pain and loss and fear.

When their lips disengaged he pulled her closer to his chest and held her there, she could hear his heartbeat.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"What happens now?"

"I'll bring you home. You need some rest. So do I. You'll be with Frannie. Make her mama you. And if you want I'd like to see you tomorrow. Maybe for dinner? And then we'll talk. How 'bout that?"

She considered what he'd said.

"And your cabin?"

"Waited a decade for me. Few days more won't hurt. I'll go in a few days. And when I've made some adjustments maybe you and Frannie wanna visit me? And then we take it from there? Is that enough for now? Cause I might need a few days to get my head around further planning."

"I'd like that."

"Then let's go back to the car."

His arm was around her shoulder as they walked back through the cherry trees and across the path along the river and they stopped twice to share another kiss. And he silently contemplated about the odd and twisted irony how he had saved Dar's life when, at the look of Carrie, deciding not to ignite the bomb. Or, more to the point, how she had saved Dar, unaware of his presence but still. After in that ops room it had been him to save Saul.

But he was sure. He was out.

They kissed once more when he pulled up at her sister's house. He thought it would be good night.

"Come with?" she murmured against his lips, hands in his hair.

"Carrie, as much as I want to...I honestly think we should probably...it's been a pretty intense couple of days...you need to rest...and your sister...and Frannie..."

She chuckled under her breath.

"Not that. Just stay with me for a few hours. I...it would make it more...real?"

"You're asking a lot." But his smile reached his eyes and she loved that sight.

"I'll come up with a babysitter soon, I promise."

So they sneaked into the sleeping house, tiptoeing upstairs, Quinn a silent shadow.

Opening her dress' back zipper and seeing her stepping out of it was a sight to behold, but with Frannie in the adjacent room and four more members of the household next to the walls left and right...he had waited for so long, a few days more or less wouldn't make a difference. And what he got that night had already been more than he had ever dared to hope when he'd left that plane less than 20 hours ago. So this couldn't go too far that night, but a few more of those kisses didn't harm anybody.

He hold her in his arms when she drifted off to sleep, thinking how glad he was to be allowed to be with her after she'd buried her father.

And she thought how much more there was to Peter Quinn as she'd ever acknowledged before.

\-------------------------------------

Ever since her first daughter had been born Maggie Mathison had been an early riser, sadly never regaining the ability to sleep in, even not when her daughters slept through and long now.

So she was already up when she heard her niece's usual early morning jabber. That sweet girl was a miracle of neverending good mood. As she wasn't even sure when her sister had been home from her nightly so called trip to the office, which she'd doubted anyway, given the way her handsome colleague had eaten up Carrie with his eyes and given that embrace, she silently went into Frannie's room to pick her niece up for an early morning round of coffee for herself and warm milk for the little munchkin.

The connecting door to her sister's room was open and Maggie was only about as half surprised as one would expect under those circumstances, when she saw her sister sleeping in the arms of Peter Quinn, snuggled into his chest and right under his chin, his arms wound around her sister's fragile frame. Neatly dressed in the underdress Maggie had bought her last minute the day before the wake but his left hand under the fabric on her back.

She silently closed the door and took her niece downstairs, closing the kitchen door as well. But still she heard someone sneaking out of the back door followed by the sound of a starting engine about half an hour later.

And it was out of question that she volunteered to babysit her niece not only for the evening of that day but for the following weekend as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everbody who joined the discussion on LJ. 
> 
> Your comments are gladly received and highly appreciated.


End file.
